


Lists of 40

by viveriveniversumvivusvici55



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Prostitution, Based on a Poem, Kiss and Tell, M/M, Pre-A Study in Pink, Prostitution, Shag and Tell, army John
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-03
Updated: 2013-12-23
Packaged: 2018-01-03 08:25:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1068244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/viveriveniversumvivusvici55/pseuds/viveriveniversumvivusvici55
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When John and Sherlock met for the first time, they started keeping lists. When they slowly came back to each other, neither needed a list to tell them who they wanted into their life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sherlock's 40 Love Letters

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this in about an hour after listening to Jeanann Verlee’s spoken word poem ’40 Love Letters’, which I highly recommend listening to. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MsgxP3-3_qY

Sherlock Holmes was known as one of the best prostitutes in London. He had been for years. Like a killer, he took names and kept trophies. But not just anyone’s trophies, the best and the worst and all the ones that stuck his memory. His trophies were photos stolen in the night with a £20 camera phone and no light but the cold London moon looking down or the sickly glow of streetlights. Some of the photos were good memories, others were reminders of what never to do again. His trophies were the little notes he wrote by each photo. These notes were short letters, maybe a sentence or two long. When his days were dark and there was no one that he could warm the bed for and he was cold and hungry and bored...he pulled out that £20 camera phone and flicked through the photos, reading each note and remembering.

Dear, dear John...I still think of you.  
Dear Sebastian, you had a kiss like a demon but the manners of a goat.  
Dear Mark, you’re the only one I’ve dressed like a dinosaur for. I don’t know if that’s good or bad.  
Dear Angus, to this day, my heart skips a beat when I hear an Scottish accent;  
Dear Michael, you looked and sounded like my brother and if I had ever fucked him, I’m sure that you fucked like he does.  
Dear Sean, when I toss and turn, I wish I could hear you sing again;  
Dear Ryan, ten years in this job and you’re the only one who made me cry;  
Dear Xerxes, we barely said a word but I understood everything you said;  
Dear Frank, pull my hair again and I’ll break your fucking legs.  
Dear Claudia, if I had the skill, I would have painted you so your beauty would have lasted forever;  
Dear Daniel, we would have had the best angry sex ever if we just had stopped arguing.  
Dear Cheyenne, I am honoured that you came out to me before you did to your family;  
Dear Adrian, you made drive in movies fun again;  
Dear John...I still think of you.

Dear Graham, I saw your face in the papers and I’m sorry I couldn’t stop you;  
Dear Seamus, sex on the bar counter was the best reason to be thrown out;  
Dear Logan, I’ve never met someone so scared to lose their virginity. I hope I made it better for you than it was for me.  
Dear Robert, you screamed my name so loud they called the cops on us;  
Dear Hank, NO.  
Dear Jerry, it was good until your wife walked in;  
Dear Connie, I forgot how frightening women can be;  
Dear Greg, that was the strangest interrogation I’ve ever been a part of;  
Dear Ben, I would have broken you in two;  
Dear Kurt, you nearly broke ME in two;  
Dear Dean, I’m a whore. Not your therapist;  
Dear Dr. Ripley, you’re the reason I want to run every time I see a white coat;  
Dear John, I still...think of you.

Dear Jess, I’m sorry I said the wrong pronoun;  
Dear Sonny, I’ve never met anyone so stupid in my life;  
Dear Connor, you wanted me to run away with you and it was from sheer desperation that I nearly packed my bag.  
Dear James, I’m sorry I said the wrong name;  
Dear Avery, I’ve never just cuddled and kissed someone before. I want to do that again.  
Dear Sam, you looked like a moose;  
Dear Kyle, you were the reason I didn’t slit my wrists that night;  
Dear Harry, I’m sorry I broke your glasses;  
Dear Carmen, the bruises faded away but not the scars you left;  
Dear Alexander, you helped me learn to hope again;  
Dear Zayn, I only said yes because you were blonde;  
Dear Irene, you made me realize I love him;  
Dear John...dear _John_...

I still have your dogtags around my neck. I never take them off.


	2. John's 40 Bucket List Ideas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John kept a bucket list from when he was ten until he was sixteen, when he decided that bucket lists were stupid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few people asked for a continuation, and so you shall received. I think I'll do one more chapter after this so there is a bit of a happy ending, but for now, here is John.

John kept a bucket list from when he was ten until he was sixteen, when he decided that bucket lists were stupid. The list had been started on a white piece of paper, torn from his sister’s sketchbook and written in his best writing in thin black ink. When he thought that the list was pointless and his life shouldn’t be confined by a list, he was tempted to throw it away. But something stopped him. So he just folded it up and put it in his wallet. When he was deployed, he kept the list. 

As he lay on the ground in Afghanistan, surrounded by dust and dead grass and the sound of gunfire and please God, let me live, he regretted not doing half of what was on the list. He made a promise that if he lived, if somehow any of the deities he had denounced the existence of let him live, he would try to complete the entire list, regardless of what was on it. So, while he was in the hospital, trying to deal with the fact that he would be going home and he couldn’t do what he loved anymore, he pulled the list out from his wallet and read, checking off with a stub of a pencil as he went.

 _1\. Fall in love_  
John chuckled weakly at that, remembering the girl he had liked at the time: Mary Morstan, a lovely young woman with bright eyes, a happy smile, and flowing blonde hair. He’d seen her once before he was deployed, and she’d only gotten more beautiful. He wondered if she wanted to meet for a drink.  


 ~~ _2\. Get on the rugby team_~~  
John checked that off.  


_3\. Learn to play an instrument WELL (not clarinet)_

_4\. Build an awesome tree fort_

_5\. Go skydiving_

_6\. Climb a mountain_

~~_7\. Travel to a different country_~~  
John laughed bitterly as he checked that one off.

~~_8\. Make sure Mum knows I love her_ ~~

_9\. Drive a racecar_

~~_10\. Become a doctor_ ~~

_11\. Make friends with Harry_

~~_12\. Learn to shoot a gun (NOT AT PEOPLE)_~~  
“I’m sorry.” John murmured to the memory of his younger self as he crossed that one off as well.

~~13\. Meet a celebrity~~

_14\. Fall in love_  
Clearly, John at any age knew the importance of love and happiness. This time, the words had the flavour of a young woman with a mixture of Mary’s features and someone else, pale skin and hair with black and gold threaded through it, gentle grey eyes, and a sharp smile. He didn’t know who she was.

_15\. Walk the red carpet_

~~_16\. Be in two places at once_~~  
Did being right between life and death count? John crossed it off anyways.

 ~~ _17\. Save a life_~~  
Done every single day.

 _18\. Sing (sober) in front of people_  
John chuckled as he remembered watching Harry do drunk karaoke so many times.

 ~~ _19\. Make Mum happy_~~  
John almost wept at his past naiveté as he crossed it out.

_20\. Watch every Doctor Who episode_  
Like that's going to happen. 

~~_21\. Learn a new language._ ~~

_22\. Start a family._  
John looked at that option and raised an eyebrow. No. There was no family in his immediate future. Maybe no family in his future ever.

_23\. Write a love letter_

~~_24\. Witness a miracle_~~  
Every time he thought someone would die and they pulled through.

~~_25\. Learn to sew a button_ ~~

_26\. Make someone breakfast_

_27\. Fall in love_  
By this time, the picture had settled on a young man with curly black, flashing eyes, and a wicked little smile. And a soft innocent smile. And silver dogtags around his neck. John pushed the image out of this head, trying to forget it lest his heart hurt with guilt and regret anymore than it already did.

_28\. Learn to dance (proper ballroom dancing)_

~~_29\. Get a tattoo_~~  
Though John wasn’t quite sure if a military tattoo counted, he checked it off anyways.

_30\. Donate blood_

~~_31\. Volunteer or go abroad to help other people_ ~~

_32\. Star in a movie_

_33\. Swim with dolphins_

_34\. Make someone’s day_  
John decided to spend a couple days a week smiling at everyone he saw.

 ~~ _35\. Move to London_~~  
He couldn’t bear to be anywhere else.

~~_36\. Go to university_ ~~

_37\. Don’t just survive...live_

_38\. Make plenty of mistakes_

_39\. Succeed in the things that matter_

_40\. FALL. IN. LOVE (with the person that makes life less boring and completely worthwhile)_  
John set the list to the side and buried his face into his hands, eyes closed as tear pressed at the edges. A rush of memory had filled his head. All he could think was the young man that he had paid £50 for a good night before he was shipped off. Sherlock, he had said his name was. Maybe that had been a fake name, but more likely that it was real, the man had been surprised after he’d introduced himself to John. He remembered the sound of his laugh, the scorn in his voice as he talked about idiots, the sheer intelligence in his eyes, the happiness in them when John had honestly praised that intelligence, the best sex of his life, the true smile on Sherlock’s face as they cuddled after, and the shake in John’s voice when he told Sherlock, Wait for me? And Sherlock had accepted the dog tags so EASILY and replied, Maybe. Don’t die and then we’ll talk. Now the wisdom of the list and the traitorous pounding of his heart knew exactly what he wanted, exactly what he needed...and it was the one thing that he couldn’t have.

Because a young genius with eyes like a stormy sky and lips like Cupid’s own violin who said feeling were useless, that caring was not an advantage, would know better than to let an invalided army doctor who cared about him into his life.


	3. Sherlock and John's 40 Thoughts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Sherlock and John saw each other again, thoughts raced through their minds. Similar emotions filled them, but the thoughts were always incredibly different.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God, I am so sorry for not updating. Exams and then Christmas...so here is my Christmas gift to you. I kind of scrambled to finish it, so I hope you all like it. If it's not obvious, bold thoughts are John, italic are Sherlock, both is both.

When Sherlock and John saw each other again, thoughts raced through their minds. Similar emotions filled them, but the thoughts were always incredibly different. 

**That can’t be...**  
 _Oh, but it is...oh, John..._  
 **Does he recognize me?**  
 _How could I forget that beautiful face?_  
 **God, Sherlock, you’re as beautiful as you were the day I saw you. Maybe even more.**  
 _I suppose he must not recognize me. I don’t know why he would talk to me if he did anyways. After all, I’m just another whore he slept with._

John had not expected to see Sherlock again, but his traitorous heart leapt in joy when he did. Standing in a lab at St. Bart’s watching the young genius work sent a weird rush of nostalgia and happiness through him, and being told that he would apparently get a flatshare with the man made him clench his cane with joy.

Sherlock briefly looked up to see who Mike was bringing into the lab, likely someone that needed a flatshare as well, but when he saw John - HIS John - standing there, it took a monumental amount of effort to keep a straight face. His John walking with a cane, looking battle weary in every sense of the word, invalided home, but it was his John, alive and HOME.

“Mike, can I use your phone? There’s no signal on mine.” Sherlock decided to see how John would react. 

“Why don’t you use the landline?” Mike replied, raising an eyebrow.

“I prefer to text.”

“Sorry, it’s in my coat.” Mike was practically opening the door for John to talk, and Sherlock braced himself. 

“Here, use mine.” John didn’t know why he offered his phone, the gift Harry had given him, but he did.

_Still so kind and helpful. The perfect little soldier. God I hate him for it. He left me here, and nearly left me alone._  
 **He looks so surprised at the show of emotion. People being kind to you is still so strange to you, isn’t they? God, I wish people thought you as wonderful as I do.**  
 _You were shot. Left shoulder. Psychosomatic limp. You nearly DIED in Afghanistan, John, and I would be alone again._  
 **Did you miss me? Did you worry that I wouldn’t come back?**  
 _I could live without you, John. I could. I just don’t want to._  
 **Of course I would come back, you idiot. Couldn’t leave you all alone now, could I?**

Conversation continued as normal after that. Or whatever could pass as normal with Sherlock in the room. Somehow he managed to lay out all the details of John’s life with a few glances (based on previous knowledge but also some new deductions), and John’s face lit up with a secretive smile at that. 

**Still so brilliant. My little genius. Did you end becoming a detective like you said you were going to do?**  
 _You still look awed when I do this. Do you really think me so brilliant? Would you be proud of what I’ve done?_  
 **I could kiss you right now. It’d be so easy to. Just walk over and kiss you and never let go of you. God, I want to.**  
 _Walk over here and kiss me, John Watson, because I can’t get my legs to work._

After the weirdest night John had ever had (kidnapping and threats and murderers and literally saving Sherlock’s life), they went out for Chinese. It was dipping right back into something familiar that sent coils of warmth through John’s gut. While they were eating and talking, John noticed something, though he didn’t mention it out loud.

**Are...are those my dogtags I can see through your shirt?**  
 _What does he see...oh...OH._  
 **He kept them. He waited. He really waited for me. ME! This brilliant, wonderful man waited for ME!**  
 _He looks happy, appreciates the sentiment of the dogtags...reciprocates? Could he...that’s impossible. No, he...he can’t. He couldn’t still want me._  
 **That’s it. If I don’t kiss you right now and tell you I love you, I will regret it for the rest of my life.**  
 _I must be wrong. But...he hasn’t said anything bad about it?_

There was no talk about what they were thinking, other than moving onward in their conversation. But the tension in the air had picked up. When they sat in the flat after dinner, Sherlock looking just the slightest bit anxious and John feeling absolutely euphoric, John looked at his detective and murmured, leaning forward to touch the dog tags with a light finger, “You waited for me.” 

“Yes, I did.” Sherlock reached to remove the dogtags and added, his heart a little heavy, “If you want them back, you can have them.” 

_Though I don’t want to give them away._

“No, keep them. They’re yours. They have been since I gave them to you.” 

**They belong with you. Just like we do.**

After a few moments, John pulled out his bucket list and showed Sherlock before crossing out number 40. [FALL. IN. LOVE (with the person that makes life less boring and completely worthwhile)] He smiled at Sherlock and murmured after a moment, “And...if you’ll still have me, so am I.”

_I could not be more lucky._  
 **Why hasn’t he said anything? Did I...did I do something wrong?**

Sherlock pulled out his phone and showed John the photos he had taken in the moonlight, as well as the captions. As he put his phone away, he stepped forward and hesitantly rested his hands on John’s shoulders. John’s hands dropped to cradle Sherlock’s hips.

_This feels like before. And it’s even better._  
 **I’ll never feel as good next to someone as I do with you. I searched three continents and no one was even close.**

“You...you came back for me.” Sherlock murmured. 

“I said I would, didn’t I? And you waited.” John replied. 

“I said I would. “He slowly leaned in and pressed a soft kiss, closed mouth and chaste, to John’s lips.

**God, it’s just as good as when I met him. No...better.**  
 _So this is what love feels like. Who knew it would make everything so much richer?_  
 **I’m never leaving Sherlock’s side.**  
 _I’m never letting John go._  
 **I would give my life for this man.**  
 _I would do everything and anything for him._

They broke away with matching smiles on their faces. John rested his head against Sherlock’s chest, and Sherlock rested his forehead on the top of John’s head.

**Your heart is racing.**  
 _You smell so good._

**God, I love you. I’m so thankful that you waited for me so I could say this.**  
“I’ve been meaning to say this for years: I love you.” John murmured softly.

 _You...love me? I hoped for this but I didn’t think it would happen. I barely imagined it in case you were KIA. Thank you for coming home. I have loved you since the day I met you. I can’t say it out loud, not yet, but you know._  
“I know.” Sherlock murmured, nuzzling John’s forehead. 

They said nothing else, but for the first time that night, though neither knew it, their thoughts were one and the same:

**_We’re never parting again. Now or ever._ **


End file.
